I didn't know how much pain I was in again so internally until last night, drunk off whiskey just balling my eyes out. Admitting my pain. Admitting emotional and mental abuse. I'm just so fucking tired of this shit man. I'm not even suicidal and/depressed anymore. But I didn't know how badly I'm still holding on to or still experiencing. All it took was one memory to trigger the last 22 years of abandonment and all of these traumatic events.
I say I'm good and straight; I talk to so many other people in a day and I try to be strong and fucking stay alive for everybodys sake but honestly I get moments where I just want to disappear. Not fucking od or try to kill myself. But dark days come and go now. And there are moments of just darkness of a shadows forecasting over me. I can't sleep and refuse to. Not because I enjoy being busy or productive. That's only some of the cases. Insomnia is getting worse than ever before. Even though I don't have nightmares. I have these dreams.
I'm terrified of falling into old habits. I'm doing somewhat well now, but what the fuck is the point if I can't even feel the shit I be feeling but numbness and emptiness. All these posts, all these fucking edits. I talk with no emotion or context when talking and writing. I want to feel something. I want to just fucking feel something good. I'm just fucking tired of not knowing what the fuck I feel and I want to get the fuck out. I want to escape these mirror memories. I want to fucking drown myself in drunk to feel something or go far away.
Ever feel like you felt so much and had so much to intake that nothing even fulfills anything. Not hobbies, not people, not things, not yourself just absolutely fucking nothing makes me feel long enough. I'm so tired of everyone, I'm tired of everything. Myself the fucking sick cruel world. Sometimes I wonder and question my own fucking existence. I go through these memories because they come up and I don't feel bad for myself at all. I chose to be available for people who fucking did the fucked up shit to me like they did.
But how did I ever fucking deceiver any of it? All the fucking abuse. Not even mentally and emotionally. Why did I accept abuse so much because I was convinced it's love. When it wasn't. I wish I can turn off these memories, these flashbacks. But they come and hit me like endless bullet shells. I haven't had any quiet moments anymore. I don't even know what or who I am some nights. It feels like literal hell all over again. Everything just hurts all over again.
I can't turn these fucking voices off. I'm so fucking tired. Why the fuck was I never good enough for this fucking world man. Why do I always feel like I ruin things and people and make it so fucking hard to people to just fucking love me back and care about me the fucking same. I do everything I fucking can and everyone just takes what they can and fucking leave. I don't want and/or need saving. I just want people to fucking hear me and fucking understand me as a fucking person and everything I say and do is so misunderstood.
Yet who the fuck took time out of their day to talk to me or even ask if I'm okay mentally and emotionally? I always check in, I always fucking ask because I fucking care and I fucking love things despite how people make me feel. People don't understand that I remember literally everything. I overanalyze and over think. But I don't fucking remember the last time someone got me the way I got them. Everything is for nothing and everyone wants something. I don't know how much I can take, I don't know how to keep going anymore. I don't want anything or anyone. I just want to be alone. I just want to vanish. I want just throw it all away. No explanation, no clues, nothing behind but my will. I want to end it all again because what exactly is the point of living to serve others because you no longer want to serve you.
How can I be alive? When my soul was buried before I ever hit my 30s? I'm a living corpse but I am no longer alive.
I don't want to do this anymore.